Unopened Doors
by avearia
Summary: A collection of Phic Phight drabbles for the event. — Team Human. — Next Up: "I Dare You..." - A 3am game of truth or dare gets a little out of hand. (Amethyst Ocean.) Prompt by thethirteenthcrow (zhalia)
1. Introduction

Unopened Doors - A Phic Phight Collection

_A collection of Phic Phight drabbles for the event. — Team Human.  
_

—

Prologue:

A/N: Hello, Phandom!

I am participating in the Phic Phigh organized by Currently-Lurking/Hollyflash and ibelieveinahappilyeverafter.

I am on Team Human!

This fic will contain all drabbles I attempt for the Phic Phight. I may also decide to tackle certain prompts in a full-fledged story of their own - this is just for drabbles relating to the prompts.

It may be a bit ambitious, but I intend to try and do a little writing for each prompt provided. There were 121 prompts provided to Team Human (or, 243 prompts overall) so tackling them all in 30 days is going to be downright impossible, I'm aware. But, inevitable failure does not mean I shouldn't try. Right?

All summaries and warnings will be provided at the top of each chapter. Enjoy!


	2. Electric Core Danny AU

**First** **Up**: Electric Core Danny AU

**Prompter**: ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

**Prompt**: Electric Core Danny AU - Show Rewrite - Instead of ice powers the accident with the Fenton Portal left Danny with electric based powers, his ghost sense a sharp jolt of a jump scare and his worries now revolving around trying to survive the increase in static shock. Life goes on, however, and he learns just how tiring being a half-ghost is.

**Summary**: Who knew dying could make someone feel so alive?

**Warnings**: Light angst. Death themes.

—

* * *

**Electrifying  
**—

His parents built a portal to another world in their basement.

It was their life's work, a monstrosity of metal and tubes and wires that dominated the South wall, boring 12 feet deep into the foundation like a tunnel waiting to be explored.

It didn't work.

Danny knew it didn't work, because he'd been there on the day his parents had cut the ribbon, so to speak. They'd waxed poetic for an hour, detailing all the theories that fascinated Danny, and the science and otherworldly mechanics that went soundly over his head, before eagerly taking hold of the sparkplugs and plugging them in.

The spittle of sparks that the portal released was underwhelming, to say the least. The Fenton Ghost Portal was a dud.

But… still…

Danny's fingers brushed against the doorway, skin tingling. The basement was dead dead silent, or so he'd thought, but the more he strained to look, to see to the other side of the tunnel, to listen—he swore he could hear a low hum vibrating the ground beneath his feet.

A dud… Were his parents so sure? After all, ghosts were invisible, right?

What if they _hadn't _failed after all? What if the portal really was working, invisible at the back of that long, empty tunnel, waiting to be explored, and they just…

Couldn't… _see _it?...

Danny took a step into the frame, cautious but curious what might lay on the other side.

A jolt of electricity seemed to branch up his spine, and Danny startled and leapt back, suddenly too afraid to go in.

This place felt—magical, almost, like a crossroads, and he didn't dare venture in.

Quickly, Danny backed away, then turned back and raced up the stairs, feet pounding the wood beneath his sneakers.

Deep down, he knew if he dared go exploring, it would change his life forever. And what was wrong with an ordinary life? What was wrong with going to school, day after day, hanging with friends or watching movies and living life in secure, empty bliss? Would he still be able to hang on to that, if he ventured down the path of his curiosity?

…He wasn't ready to know.

* * *

The monotony of his life caught up with him quick, though, and soon he was coasting through the days at Casper High unable to focus on school work or tired pleasantries without the Ghost Portal hovering at the back of his mind.

He told his friends, shared with Sam and Tuck why he'd been so distant these past few days, and instantly they got excited, too.

"You have an _interdimensional portal_ in your _basement?_" Tucker pressed.

"That leads to the _realm of the dead?_" Sam asked, mystified.

They shared a glance, brimming with excitement, and Danny couldn't help feel vindicated in his curiosity. By the time they turned back to him, eyes set and eager, he was ready to face the unknown.

"You _have _to show us."

* * *

Tucker marveled at the tech.

Sam riddled him with questions about ghosts.

Both urged him to step inside. Danny didn't even need the push by that point, already zipping up the white and black hazmat that his parents stored nearby.

The jolt rang through his body when he stepped in to the archway again, buzzing with excitement. Taking a deep breath, his he followed the long hallway to the back, hand trailing along the wall for guidance.

His fingers brushed against a nob.

Something clicked.

And lightning—_exploded. _

* * *

When Sam asked him later—what it felt like to be in that thunderstorm, what it felt like to _die—_Danny told her it felt "Shocking!" and got a punch to the arm for the pun.

In truth, the Portal explosion was the worst pain he'd ever experienced.

The volts surged through his body, shattering their way through bones and veins and muscle. It felt like his body was on fire. Those few seconds seemed to stretch forever, and he felt like he was trapped in a single, sustained note of neverending agony.

He also felt—awake, in a way he hadn't before. He could feel the energy coursing through him, cackling in his veins, dancing through his skull, and when he gasped, white-hot air filling his lungs, it felt raw, and _new, _as though it was the first breath he'd ever taken in his _life_.

Between the agony of death and the shuddering reality of rebirth, Danny could no more explain the experience than Sam could, just by watching.

And then it was gone. A flash of light, a pair of parting rings, and he was human again, dropped to the floor, and then crumpled to his knees, human and breathing and heart beating once more. He felt so _normal_— so human. For all the agony and all of the pain, his body came out unscathed.

He almost wondered, right then, if maybe he'd imagined it. If maybe he'd never gone into the portal at all, because something like that… couldn't have happened, could it? In a flash, everything had gone back to normal, with only the smallest bits of evidence that it had happened at all:

His friend's horrified expressions…

The portal, swirling green behind him…

…And the sudden hollowness ringing in his heart.

* * *

The next two months were an exercise in frustration.

Danny alternated between periods of calm and rest, and the growing frequency of electric restlessness. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore the ghost signs, harder to ignore his powers.

Static shocks became frequent. His hair stood on end no matter how often he grounded himself on doorknobs and metal fixtures.

His friends avoided his touch like the plague; a lucky break for his bullying problem, since Dash didn't want to risk getting one of the infamously powerful shocks just to punch Danny a few times.

Paper stuck to him like cat fur. If he had a cat, the fur would probably stick to him like glue. His bedsheets cackled every morning when he peeled them away—getting dressed was almost not worth the effort.

Other items, he seemed to repel with prejudice. His cell phone, he dropped too many times to count. Pens. His lunch box. 34 beakers in science class. He'd caused enough damage that they actually marked on his permanent record that he was no longer allowed to handle fragile school equipment.

The first power outage he caused, Danny couldn't ignore things anymore. Trying to take a shower while feeling so charged up hadn't been his best plan to begin with, and the moment his hand touched the water a crackle of electricity shot up the water, across the metal, jumped around behind the plaster, and spread until it shorted out the entire block. His denial made a last, valiant attempt to shove the thoughts away, insisting that it had been a mere _coincidence_, but when his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see himself in the mirror, his skeleton seeming to glow from the inside out before fading entirely, the jittery charge ebbing away with it.

He had powers, now.

Oh, the oddity had its perks—Tucker waxed poetic about how he hadn't had to charge his laptop in _days_, and sometimes, Danny felt like he could sort of ~tune into~ the radio, songs playing in his head whenever the tingling feeling resurfaced. But on the whole, the costs seemed to outweigh the benefits.

When things finally came to a head, not one of the trio was surprised.

Danny startled awake one particularly bad night, emerging from a deep sleep into total alertness, jittering with energy.

He shoved the covers off himself with the thrust of his palm, and was on his feet before he knew it, the balls of his feet barely touching the floor. And Danny shut his eyes and reached inward, tapping into his core, trying to feel for where all this energy was coming from, trying to grab ahold.

A white ring of energy formed around his body, then split in two, and suddenly he was weightless.

A deep breath - a raw, shuddering breath - and Danny knew what must've happened.

He glanced at the mirror, and sure enough, there was the ghost, standing where his reflection should be, glowing softly in the darkness, white hair afloat, yellow-green eyes blinking back at him.

Danny didn't even need to touch his phone; the mere passing thought of calling his friends had the device dialing Tucker in an instant.

"Hello?" his sleepy friend said from the other end of the line.

"I think I'm dead again," Danny said in a whisper.

A long pause.

"…Meet me in Gaiman Park in 15 minutes," said Tucker, already on the move.

* * *

"Flying, intangibility, electric shocks—"

"Don't forget the glowing."

"Well, that goes without saying."

Danny juggled a few golfball sized rocks Tucker handed him, tossing them into the air with barely a touch. Tucker went on.

"Invisibility, Electronic manipulation, Telekinesis—"

"I think this is more of a… magnetic thing?" Danny pitched, still juggling. Each time the rocks approached his palms it felt like a mounting, repelling force, like trying to push two matching ends of a magnet together.

"A magnetic thing that you are performing with your mind. Ergo. Telekinesis."

"…Fair." Danny's hand jerked, throwing the rock too high, and it escaped from his magnetic hold and dropped to the earth, hitting his head on the way down. "Ow!"

"—Maybe you're not dead if you can feel pain?"

"Maybe. That… should've hurt _more, _though, right? I mean—it's a _rock._" He rubbed the spot on his head, the lump already fading. Only a tingling sensation lingered behind. "Geez, this is so weird."

"Sorry I'm late!" Sam hauled herself to the top of the brick wall that bisected the park, keeping the two teens invisible from the road. She vaulted over the top, her combat boots dropping to the dirt. "Had to shake my parents. So, what's—whoa."

She stopped in her tracks, eyes going wide as she took in Danny's new appearance. Danny shifted, uncomfortably, under her gaze.

"This is _crazy,_" she murmured, awed.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No, crazy _awesome_." She pressed, moving forward. "You look like you belong on the cover of a Humpty Dumpty album."

"—No offense but that's still not reassuring."

"We think maybe he's a ghost," Tucker filled her in, flashing his PDA of all the powers Danny had been displaying so far. It was a fairly long list. "Or some kind of mutant? Like in the comics. Maybe the portal was radioactive."

"_Again,_" Danny hissed. "Not. Reassuring."

She reached out. "Can you change back? _Ow-_" she hissed upon touching his hazmat, getting the customary shock. Sam shook her hand as if it had gone numb. "I mean. You did it before."

"Yeah, but I don't know _how._" Danny circled his hands around the center of his chest. "I felt like, energy here, and when I tried to tap into it, I changed."

"Can you tap into it now?" Tucker asked.

Danny's brow furrowed. "I mean—I feel _something—_" He focused, cradling his hands dome-like over his core. He closed his eyes, reaching inward.

A spark. The energy was there, thrumming through him, pivoting around a tight circle that seemed to twist at the center of his soul. He tapped into it, drawing the energy, teasing it out into his fingers—

Someone gasped. Danny's eyes fluttered open, hopeful that it had worked, but no. His hands were still gloved in white, the inverted hazmat of his dead form. And cradled in his palms, dancing through the gaps of his fingers…

"That's _lightning,_" Sam breathed, her hair standing on end. Danny could feel it too, the prickle of energy that was now bleeding into the air.

He glanced at Tucker who was squinting. "I'm no expert, but that doesn't seem safe."

"Oh come on, Tucker, isn't that the coolest thing you've ever _seen?_" Sam asked, grinning ear to ear.

The energy built in his palm, growing hotter. "Uh, yeah, I'm gonna have to side with Tucker on this one," Danny said, voice pinched, as the energy mounted in his hands. "It's getting stronger—? Guys? Some help?"

"You're the one generating it," Tucker eyed him warily. "Just turn it off!"

"Easy for you to say—" Danny's voice rose. His the space between his fingers was now almost completely whited out with electricity. "I'm sure you've done this a _hundred _times…!"

"Okay, breathe. Focus." Sam said, voice steady.

The energy in his hands vibrated all the way up his arms. Danny took a deep breath, looking inward again, to that core. He imagined the thread he'd teased out earlier, picturing it in his mind like a string drawn from yarn, and in his mind, he snipped it off.

The lightning buckled. In his hands, it seized and rippled, balling and contracting in on itself, suddenly heavy, weighing him down. The air around them shifted and whistled, a wind drawing up from nowhere. Both his friends leapt back.

"Whoa—"

"You okay—?"

He needed to discharge. Too much energy built up in one place. Frantic, Danny braced himself in midair and shoved his palm outward, thrusting the electricity away.

_CRA-CRAK!_

Thunder cracked the air. Lightning flashed, and the energy leapt from his hand to the nearest, tallest object in the park, an old oak tree at the center of the hill.

Wood split under pressure. The tree burst into flames.

Tucker and Sam stumbled back from the blast, hands up to shield themselves. Danny still hovered, hand outstretched, pointing at the damage he'd caused, completely stunned. He glanced down at his friends, who stared up at him in awe.

The energy inside him dropped, suddenly, and his body did too, after a flash of light changed him from ghost to human. He hit the dirt, slipping to one knee, suddenly exhausted.

Tucker and Sam scrambled over to him, quick to be at his side but slow to reach out and comfort him. When Sam's hand brushed his bare skin, however, he didn't shock her. He didn't have enough energy left.

"Okay. _That,_" Danny agreed, between breathless pants of air, "Was _crazy_."

"But you're back now," Sam said, trying to sound hopeful. "You're okay—"

"Oh my god Danny, look at that crater," Tucker's voice drew him out of his reverie. They all glanced where the tree was standing, crooked, flaming. There was indeed a crater in the base of the tree, the size of the wheel of a car, or bigger.

Tucker turned on his heel to look down at his friend. "You have superpowers," he said awestruck. "You got zapped with a ghost portal and now you have electrical ghost powers. Danny—you're superhuman."

Behind him, the wood of the tree buckled, cracked, gave way. The burning tree groaned and felled, crashing hard in the field, the fire quickly catching on the grass.

"Sure would be nice to have ice powers right about now," Danny murmured. "Maybe we should call the fire department?" He suggested.

Sirens whirling in the distance, approaching fast, suggested that wasn't necessary. Sam spun to face them.

"We keep this a secret," she said, firm. "Until we know more."

A police car peeled around the corner, its bright blue and red lights cutting over the top of the park's brick wall.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Danny said, wishing he could vanish.

A spark of energy thrummed down his spine, and in an instant, he disappeared.

* * *

_More of a oneshot than a drabble, and more of a prequel to the series than a retelling of it, but I digress. Maybe I'll do a part two later of later events colored by an electric core…_

_Thanks for reading! Reviews always appreciated! _


	3. Ghost Gabber Booomerang AU

**Next**: Ghost Gabber + Booomerang AU

**Prompter**: Skulking-around-the-phandom / 11paruline44

**Prompt**: Jack Fenton decides to combine the Ghost Gabber with the Boo-merang. Chaos ensues.

**Summary**: "Jack Fenton shrugged. Well, not all of his inventions could be winners."

**Warnings**: None, unless you'd like warning for crackfic.

**Wordcount**: 1,147.

—

* * *

**Constructive Criticism**

"I call it… the Ghost Gabberang!" Jack announced, holding up his newest invention under the fluorescent lights of the laboratory. "The Boomer-gabber? The— well, we'll work out the name later."

"…Why does it sound like you just combined the Ghost Gabber and the Boooomerang?" Jazz asked, wary.

"Because I did!" Jack said, thrilled. "Here! A brilliant invention like this one needs a _demonstration! _Watch!"

Danny, standing beside Jazz, went immediately stiff and threw out his hands. "Dad, _waitaminute, _don't throw the—"

But Jack, overeager, could not be stopped. He wound up an arm and loosed before the sentence even made it out of Danny's mouth. The silver boomerang whirled off to the far side of the lab, its flat robotic voice fading as it echoed "Dad. Wait-a-second. Don't throw the. Fear me…" as it flew off.

"Huh." Jack scratched his head. "Still repeating everything Danny says. I thought I _fixed _that."

The Gabberang hovered in the air, suspended in the corner as its blades helicoptered, halted in place. Then it reversed course, swooping low. Danny ducked and dove to avoid it as the Gabberang swiped at his head, a patch of "—wait a minute, don't throw th—" playing on loop; it came and faded as the device retreated once more.

"…Thought I fixed _that,_ too…" Jack murmured, watching Danny dodge a second time, then a third, as the Gabberang took swings and missed.

Rubbing her temples, Jazz asked, exasperated, "So—your new invention is just two of your old inventions combined into one?"

"Yes!" Jack beamed. "It was _quite _a challenge! Integrating two very different modes of technology, and getting the Ghost Gabber to record evenly while in motion—it's a technical marvel!"

"I'm _marveled _that you can even _technically _call this thing an invention," Danny grumbled, ducking under another swoop.

The Gabberang echoed; "I'm marveled. That you can even. Technic—"

"Shut up you dumb thing."

"Shut up you dumb thing. Fear me." The boomerang swooped again. Danny flung himself to the side, yelling a frustrated growl as he dodged. True to form, the Gabberang echoed that same frustrated growl back at him, then ended it in a polite, 'fear me'.

Taking a deep breath, Jazz recapped: "So basically, you made a machine that follows ghosts—and Danny—" she was quick to add, "and screams their own words back to them as it flies?"

"Yes!" Jack said, puffing out his chest in pride.

Raising her eyebrows, drawing her words out slow, Jazz asked, with concern thick in her voice; "…_Why?"_

Jack, delighted, opened his mouth to answer.

Then he paused. And closed his mouth, looking puzzled.

"…Why?" He repeated, perplexed.

"…Please tell me there was some other logic behind this than just making a screaming, flying, robotic death machine," Jazz begged, praying for some sanity in this conversation.

"Uh…" Jack said, an eloquent response.

He frowned at the ground, scratching his chin. "Hm…"

"Oh my god." Danny murmured. "Our parents are Aperture Lab Scientists. This explains so much." On the Gabberang's return trip, rather than dodge, a fed-up Danny shot his hand out and caught the device mid-air. Spinning on his heel, he turned to face the other two, slightly out of breath. "Listen, Dad, if you guys ever decide to make creepy turrets with sing-song voices, or try to download your brain into a computer to achieve immortality, let us know ahead of time, okay? So the rest of us can _evacuate._"

"Aperture Labs? Is that one of you kids' newfangled me-me references?" Jack asked.

"It's from a video game. And Danny, come on, they're not that bad." Jazz said, though the last part of her sentence trailed off weakly and its tone curled upwards like a question rather than a statement.

Danny waved the Gabberang at his sister in response, then smirked. "Welcome to FentonWorks!" he announced. "Where we bend reality to our will. Here! Have a soup thermos that contains cosmic entities. Or a fishing rod! It's impervious to ghosts!"

Jazz let out a surprise snicker at that, though she was quick to suppress it. Danny, sensing an impending victory in his argument, pushed on. "For the duration of this test, we will have a screaming boomerang follow you, repeating your every word. I'll be honest here, folks, we're just throwing science at the wall to see what sticks."

"Okay, _Mom's _not that bad," she corrected, earning an indignant noise from her dad. Jazz paused. "Usually."

"She doesn't get a free pass, either. Have you forgotten?" Danny pointed at the swirling green archway behind him. "Technically, they're already _thinking with portals."_

Jazz tried and failed to suppress a laugh that only worsened as the Gabberang's robotic voice started to repeat what Danny said. Jack looked back and forth between the two.

"So… you… don't like my new invention." Jack said at last.

"Sorry, Dad," Danny tipped a two-fingered salute at his father, dropping the newest FentonWorks invention into his large palms before turning away. "But the only thing this invention is telling me is, 'Hi, I'm Jack Fenton, and I have bad ideas!""

"Well, that's kind of exaggerating, don't you think—" Jack started.

"Hi. I'm Jack Fenton, and I have bad ideas," The Gabberang in his palms said, its robotic voice unrepentant. "Fear me."

"…Now that was just good timing," Jazz commented, and turned to exit after Danny.

Jack looked down at the Gabberang in his hands and sighed. Well, he'd done his best, but they couldn't all be winners. Back to the drawing board.

Oh! What about combining some _other _gadgets in a more impressive way? The Spectre Speeder could certainly use one of those mounted turrets Danny mentioned previously - the Fenton Bazooka would fit the role nicely.

Or maybe he just needed to boost the usefulness of his new Ghost Gabberang, instead? Jazz did make a valid point that it had little use beyond annoying a ghost, assuming ghosts reacted similarly to how his human son Danny did. What could make a homing device more useful for ghost hunting?

Aha! —If the homing device could _catch _the ghost! And the Ghost Wrangler net would do just the trick. He had to find where he'd stashed it - the last time he used it was when they accidentally wrangled Jazz, thinking she was a ghost, but he'd kept it around here somewhere.

It would be tricky to integrate a net effectively into the Gabberang, but it would improve the device's uses drastically.

Jack smiled. He could always count on his kids to give proper constructive criticism - now the Gabberang's effectiveness would be improved tenfold!

"Hi, I'm Jack Fenton," The device in his hands echoed, still playing his son's words on loop. "And I have bad ideas. Fear me."

Jack grinned at the Gabberang, reaching for his screwdriver.

He couldn't _wait _to use it on Phantom.


	4. Snow Warning

**Next**: Snow Warning

**Prompter**: Wolfsongroar

**Prompt**: Maddie notices how odd it is that her son isn't bothered by the coldest blizzard in history.

**Warnings**: None

**Wordcount**: 574

* * *

**Snow Warning**

The Polar Vortex hit Amity Park like a sledghammer. Temperatures plummeted to record lows, arctic in nature, as a heavy blizzard coated the city in white.

Snowdrifts clogged the roads and piled up on doorsteps, several feet thick. Walking through them, the snow crunched underfoot, frost covering the upper crust so thick that it could almost hold a grown adult's weight. Only a few minutes outside, even in a full winter coat, was enough to chill anyone to the bone.

Maddie Fenton holed herself up in FentonWorks and was happy enough to stay there. Even with the heater cranked on full blast, the house was almost unbearably cold. She'd even gone as far as to swap out her hazmat suit with some heavy lined jeans and a thick sweater, resisting the urge to just huddle under a blanket all day. Regardless, she was not stepping foot outside today unless she absolutely had to; anyone who _did, _in her opinion, was insane.

Which was why she was surprised when the backdoor swung open, admitting a cold gust of air. Maddie looked up from the stove, soup ladle paused mid-stir, to see her son slide into the kitchen, wearing little more than a windbreaker around his shoulders.

"Hey Mom," said Danny, cheerful.

Maddie shivered, feeling the cold air bite at her ankles. "Close the door!"

A sheepish look, and Danny shouldered the door shut. Howling wind pushed a burst of snowflakes inside through the gap before the entrance closed.

"…Sorry," Danny apologized. His face was flushed and his hair windblown, speckled with snow, but he seemed otherwise unaffected by the weather. "What smells good? Is that chicken noodle?" he asked, sniffing the air.

"Daniel James Fenton." Maddie said, and her son's back stiffened immediately at his full name. "_What _do you think you're doing? Where were you?"

She knew he'd been restless—cooped up inside with the rest of them, since school had been cancelled. But the vortex had crippled the city; it was cold enough that cars wouldn't start and any businesses that didn't qualify as snow removal or emergency services were shut down. Why was he outside? Where had he gone?

"Uh, I was just… out. About." Danny replied, vaguely.

"Wearing _that?_" she motioned ot the windbreaker.

"Yeah," he said, peeling off the petty excuse for a coat. "You wouldn't believe how windy it is out there today."

_Wouldn't believe—_Maddie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Danny, it is literally fifty below outside. Where is your jacket?" she pressed.

He shrugged, making an 'idunno' noise. "It's really not that bad out there," he argued, wringing out the bottom of his t-shirt, which was damp with melting snow.

"Young man," Maddie said, "March straight upstairs and change into something more appropriate _this instant._" How he hadn't died of hypothermia yet was a complete mystery.

"But _Mom_—" Danny started.

He stopped suddenly, a white mist escaping from his mouth. He shivered, the tremor traveling straight up his spine. At last, Maddie mused, the cold was catching up to him.

"Uhhhhh you know what, good idea," Danny said quickly, all but darting out of the room.

"And take your shoes off!" Maddie scowled at the trail of slush he'd tracked in.

To that, she got no answer, only the thundering footsteps stomping up the staircase. Maddie sighed. Teenagers.

At least Danny wasn't one of those boys who wore _shorts_ in the middle of a blizzard.


	5. Phases

**Prompter**: Englandamericaitaly / x / Andovia212

**Prompt**: Danielle visits Valerie to discuss some trouble she's been having with herself and talk about the difficulty of finding oneself as a clone who was born at age 12. How is she supposed to be herself when she was made to be someone else? Will Valerie be able to help her?

**Summary**: Dani and Valerie have a girls night in, talking about typical girl stuff, like nail polish, ghost hunting, hairstyles and clones - you know, the usual. Dani's ready to reinvent her own half-life.

**Warnings**: none.

800 words.

* * *

**Phases**

"It's just all so confusing, you know?"

Danielle sat cross-legged on the bed, one hand braced flat against her knee while the nail polish dried. Behind her, Valerie threaded her long, calloused hands through Dani's dark hair, smoothing and parting her locks into three parts for the braid.

Dani screwed the cap back on the polish, one handed, muttering to herself. "I'm a clone. An _imperfect_ clone. I've only been alive for a year and I feel so _lost _sometimes."

"Mmm." Val hummed, twisting a lock of hair.

"Vlad… he made me to be Danny. And I'm _good_ at being Danny. I like all the things he likes. I know most of what he knows. We have the same mannerisms, the same reactions, almost the same face." Danielle's eyes shifted downwards. "But I'm _not _him."

"No, you're not." Valerie agreed, working her way down the braid. "You're you."

"But who's _me?_" Dani asked, frustrated. "What if I don't really like astronomy - what if I only like it because Vlad _said _to? Because _Danny _does?"

"There's nothing wrong with liking the same things everyone else likes." Valerie teased. "Despite what Sam might tell you."

"But liking _everything _Danny likes?" Dani pressed. "It's eerie, being in the same room as him. I feel like a yes-robot. We say things in sync constantly. We react the same way. At that point - I'm just a bad copy."

Valerie gave Dani's hair a quick, painless tug. "That's Vlad's bad attitude talking and you know it."

"…Sorry," Dani apologized, shoulders slumped.

Val smoothed out the braid and continued on. "You have every right to feel that way. Vlad placed some unfair expectations on you, that's for sure. But you have to remember that those expectations do not _define _you. I mean, my Dad expected me to grow up as a proper lady, go to college, get a nice, lucrative career. But here I am, a highschool dropout, getting my knuckles dirty, fighting ghosts 7 days a week. Because I _decided_ that was _important _to me."

"Is he disappointed?" Dani asked carefully.

"Oh, hell yeah he is. But he still loves me. And more importantly, _I _love me. Though - given my recent revelations about Vlad - I might have to go re-evaluate my life." Valerie shook her head. "But that's the beauty of choice. I can choose again if I want to."

"So—it's not—_permanent_, then—?" Dani's brow creased.

Valerie shook her head. "You're a person. People change. _Constantly._ Mom—" Val paused, swallowing a sudden lump in her throat. "Mom always said that women are like the moon. Shifting phases. Always trying something new. You can be full one night and dark on another, and no matter what you pick, you're still you."

Dani didn't say anything to that, sitting deep in thought.

Valerie tied off the braid, then leaned back. "You can choose to be whatever you want. So who do you _want _to be?"

"Not Danny," Dani replied.

Val shook her head. "Uh-uh. That's not defining what you _are,_ that's defining what you _aren't_."

Dani huffed, looking away. "Fine. I want to be my own person."

"Done." Val said, snapping her fingers. "What else."

Dani frowned, thinking. "I want to have my own interests," she said at last, shrugging. "I want to find something that's unique to _me_."

"Like what?"

"I've only been alive for a year, Valerie," Danielle whined. "How am I supposed to know what I _want?_"

"Same as the rest of us." Val answered. "By trying new things."

Confused, Danielle cocked her head to the side, and Val waved at her new hairstyle, and at her hand. "I'm pretty sure Danny's never braided his hair," she pointed out. "Or done his nails. How do you feel?"

A smile crept up the corner of Dani's mouth. Slowly, she ran her unpainted hand over her tightly woven locks, feeling the bumps of the braid. "Feels a little restrictive, but…" she shook her head, and the braid flapped behind her, wagging left and right. "Ha! This is ridiculous. I like it."

"And the nails?"

"They… are they dry yet? I don't want to smudge them but I feel like I can't _touch _anything." Dani held her palm up in the air, examining the magenta tips. "And the color's a bit weird."

Val smiled. "See? You know what you like. You just have to discover it first. Now," She rummaged into the shoebox lying open on her bed, stuffed to the brim with nail varnish and makeup. "Give me your other hand, let's try a new color. How do you like this one?" she held up a glittering gold.

Dani shot her a brilliant grin.

"Thanks, I hate it!" she laughed, offering her right hand. "Let's give it a go!"


	6. Schism

**Prompter**: heyheyitsstillgay (speedyowl152) / x / speedyowl152

**Prompt**: Why exactly did Dark Dan merge with Vlad and kill his human half anyway? And how many details about the incident did Vlad twist or skip over when he told Danny the story?

**Wordcount: **2406

**Summary**: During TUE. Ten years down the line, Danny hears Vlad recite the lie he's been telling to himself for years.

**Warnings**: Character deaths, manipulation, abduction, violence, blood. …Got kinda dark.

* * *

**Schism**

Vlad had been expecting him.

—

_"Ah. Bright boy."_

—

Years, left to his own devices, with half his being ripped from him, Vlad could do nothing but watch the world crumble around him. He'd kept tabs on Dan, as best he could, sending probes into the ghost zone and hacking into Amity's many emergency surveillance cameras during each sporadic attack.

The lunatic had finally managed it - finally punctured Amity's impenetrable walls, sweeping in with a terrifying new power, a ghostly wail, and it seemed all was lost - when the unexpected happened; a young, naïve Daniel Fenton stumbled into the frame.

The moment he saw the boy on the footage, Vlad knew he'd come. Stranded in the future - Where else, on this decimated Earth, would Danny turn, but to the dilapidated mansion of his archenemy?

—

_"I…. Don't want to fight you."_

_"No. No you __**Don't**__."_

—

Vlad knew he'd come, but seeing him here, his thin form haloed by the shimmering green of the portal, was another thing entirely.

Guilt flooded in. Vlad felt his insides knot and slither and sink.

Staring into Daniel's wide, young, innocent eyes, burning with a flickering, righteous fury - anger seeping into every crevice on his face -

It felt like a memory come to haunt.

"Come to kick a defenseless old man while he's down?"

Daniel hesitated a moment at that, the beam in his eyes softening. His eyes, snapping around the dimly lit basement cave - searching for threats among the supplies and equipment that Vlad'd jammed along the walls - finally settled on the shadowed chair where Vlad sat. He squinted.

"Defenseless?" Danny asked, wary. "…Old?"

Vlad tore his eyes from the consoles and spun his chair, turning to face Danny head on. Danny's eyes, so accusing before, suddenly lifted, the suspicion replaced by mute shock. They stared at one another for a long moment.

"Man," Danny whispered. "What happened to you?"

Vlad knew he wasn't much of a sight to see. Beard grown long and shaggy, suit tattered and stained and ripped to shreds. The weariness in his bones would no doubt show on his face - the world had changed, and Vlad with it.

—

_Just maybe—not enough._

—

"I could ask you the very same question, my boy," Vlad murmured, eyeing Daniel with tired eyes. He reached for his cane. "Although, perhaps…" he stood, leaning heavily into the support, drawing closer for a better look.

Danny leaned back slightly as Vlad leaned in, inspecting his teenage face and body, unscarred by battle. Unmarked by grief.

"…I should asked what _hasn't _happened to you," Vlad finished, "…Yet."

—

_The ground shook with the force of the explosion, burning and bursting and shattering the Nasty Burger outwards, a bomb on a quiet little street in the small town of Amity Park, loud enough to echo around the world._

_A young boy raced for the flames, arms outstretched - "NO!" - but the damage was already done._

—

Danny's eyes widened, his pupils shrank. He took a step back; one step, but no further, and after a moment, raised his chin. He had a clear question in his eyes, one that he didn't speak.

So, the boy knew.

But how much?

Vlad shook his head, eyes sad. "If it's any consolation, they went quickly," he said. "…They felt no pain."

Danny's face crumpled a bit, still in shock. His eyes strayed to the newspaper on the floor of the lab.

—

_NASTY ACCIDENTS FOR FENTONS AND FRIENDS, read the headlines that day. The whole nation heard about the tragedy; the boy who'd watched his family and friends die right in front of him, left as the sole survivor of a tragedy that rocked the little town of Amity._

—

Vlad placed a hand on Danny's shoulder, then dropped it, turning away.

"Unfortunately," Vlad said. The words fell from his lips without a second thought, spinning the tale. "…The same could not be said of you, Daniel."

—

_The community stepped up, almost immediately, to support the boy who'd been invisible almost all his life. The Mansons paid for the funeral, commissioned the statues, spared no expense in their grief and their endeavors to hold onto the last link to their daughter - through her best friend._

_The Foleys opened their doors, pulling Danny into a home where he would never have to sleep alone. Their house was already filled with Danny's things from years of sleepovers with Tucker - 'Hardly a difference,' Maurice insisted, whenever Danny got too close to asking if he was a burden._

_Valerie Gray glued herself to his side, there to comfort at a moment's notice. She'd gone through family deaths before, though understood that her mother's death by illness and Danny's traumatic experience were two very different beasts._

_The funeral was held a week later, and Danny, though shattered by grief, did not stand alone._

—

Vlad lifted his face to look at the ceiling, pained.

"With nowhere else to go, you came to me—"

—

_"I'm not leaving." _

_"Dammit, Daniel, your parents are gone. Your friends are __**gone**__. And all of it - your fault! If you'd just listened to me, let me teach you like I'd insisted—" _

_"My family… Sam and Tucker… they died because I used my powers __**wrong**__. Because I was selfish. Scared. I didn't trust myself to face my future and now I don't have one." _

_"You always have a future. By __**my side**__." _

_"No. I'm staying. I won't leave Amity undefended - who knows what could happen? I won't put other families at risk just because mine are gone." _

_"Daniel, either you come with me or I drag you back with a court order. As your rightful godfather—" _

_"I'm not leaving." _

—

"Me—the only person on the planet who could possibly hope to understand your situation."

—

_Maddie, gone forever. Jack—he'd never imagined his revenge like this. It was supposed to leave Vlad triumphant, not make Jack a pitiable martyr. Jazz—well, she'd had a bright mind. Could've been of use. The loss ached in his chest, almost too deep to be matched, he was sure. _

_But at least he'd salvaged Daniel, the only other living Halfa on the planet, before anything worse could happen. Even if he'd had to zap the boy with the Maximus near-hourly to keep him safely locked in the basement. _

_The boy would come around. In time. _

—

"All you wanted was to make the hurt go away."

—

_"Stop! I __**will **__find a way out of here, and when I do, I'll __**kick your ass **__into next week!" _

_"I know you're grieving, you're not rational - "_

_"__**You're**__ the one who's not rational!" _

_"It's been over a month, Daniel, and you still refuse to eat, refuse to live with me, refuse to be at my side—we only have each other left, can't you see that?" _

_"Maybe __**you're**__ alone. Not me. And when I get out of here—" _

_"—I'll make sure you __**can't**__."_

—

"I honored your wishes…"

—

_In the end, Vlad had to strap him to the table, to make him stop fighting. _

_Perhaps it was cruel, to do the operation when the boy was awake, but he needed Daniel to see that there was no avenue out but through him. The hopeless situation would only sink in if he felt his ghost half leaving him bereft, like everything else in his life. _

_He pulled on the Gauntlets and unsheathed the claws. _

_"Vlad—DON'T!"_

—

"No more painful human emotions to drag you down."

—

_Vlad's main mistake, in hindsight, was underestimating Phantom. _

_Together, Phantom and Fenton were weak, tiring easily, wracked with doubts, conflicted with morality. It had always been easy to string the boy along in his machinations, dance him like a marionette, due to their gap of experience and power._

_Vlad had always assumed he'd been the one pulling the punches in the fights. Not so. _

_Free of his mortal body, brimming with power and pent up rage, and the scraps of his humanity chained to the table, Phantom was free of his weak inhibitions… _

_There was no chance to escape. _

—

"Sadly," Vlad met Danny's eyes again, marveling in the horror he found there.

Raising his eyebrows, he explained. "That freed you to rip the ghost out of me."

—

_The split, the schism, was something Vlad felt down to his heart, his very core, as Phantom seized the Gauntlets and split Plasmius from Masters, throwing each to opposite sides of the room. _

_The emptiness left in his Ghost Half's wake, it never healed. _

_Plasmius, snarling with rage and loneliness and wounded pride, rose to fight, rose to put things back the way they ought to be. _

_But two halves make a whole, and when Plasmius and Phantom collided— _

—

"And when my ghost half mixed with yours…"

Vlad searched for words that Danny would understand. Danny stared up at him, breathless.

"My evil side—" Yes, that sounded right. Plasmius, after all, wanted and wanted and wanted. Wasn't that the basis for evil? "—It overwhelmed you."

—

_It might've been Phantom's form. _

_But Plasmius got exactly what he wanted - control. _

_Cunning, vindictive, suave, ruthless… just how he'd always imagined a perfect Phantom to be. _

_Rings of energy rippled around them. The ghost's eyes sprung open, vivid and burning, a silent scream in the air. The coldfire swirled in the center of the room, blue flames burning the oxygen from the air as the two combined, unstable and violent, fusing together in the heart of Vlad's lab. _

_Vlad - weakened, frightened, cold - cowered on the tile, staring up at his creation. _

_"…What have I done?"_

—

Danny stared at him for a long time, speechless. No doubt imagining the described scene for himself in his head.

The lab seemed quiet. So quiet.

At last, the boy managed to ask, "What happened to my future self?"

Vlad closed his eyes, turning away. Of course, the one thing the boy would ask - thinking, as usual, only of himself. Vlad put up his hand, whether to block out the memories, or silence Daniel, he didn't know.

—

_"This is your fault." _

_Even from the table, shaking in agony and unable to move, Daniel somehow sounded so righteous, so judgemental. _

_The fusion - the ghost - had thrown themselves (itself?) out the portal doors, causing a cascading failure behind it, destroying the portal as it fled. Perhaps Phantom, wherever he was inside that __**thing**__, had retained enough sense to quarantine his new form in the confines of the Zone. _

_Vlad spat. A hero until the end. _

_"No, it's __**yours**__," Vlad said, getting to his feet, nearly stumbling in his exhaustion. He felt so hollow. "If you'd just joined me—" _

_A bitter laugh. "Joined you? In case you didn't notice, my ghost half just __**did**__, apparently, and look how that turned out. No, this is all your fault. __**Every**__ misery in your life is __**your fault…" **__Another, harsher laugh. "…and you don't even realize it, do you?" _

_A snarl, and Vlad's hand closed around the scalpel on the operating tray, and before he could blink, he buried it in Daniel's chest. Daniel gasped, straining against his bonds, but the blood flowed freely from the wound. _

_Vlad staggered back, staring at the spurting red, then at his bloodstained hands. "I didn't mean—"_

—

"Some things, my boy…" Vlad began, facing Danny, the memory darkening his eyes.

—

_Danny choked and coughed, lips wet with blood. _

_"Always knew you were a frootloop," he choked. "About time you knew it, too."_

_Vlad's gut spiked with the suckerpunch. _

_Face hardening, he raised the scalpel again, and stabbed down hard; stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed again, until there was nothing left of him. _

—

"…Are better left unsaid."

Danny shuddered, eyes shutting for a moment, before he opened them again. Vlad moved towards the consoles, looking down at the images flickering on the screens, and moving to the squalor around him.

How far he'd fallen.

"If any good came out of this, it's that ten years without ghost powers…" he trailed off, eyes falling on an old framed photo of his college days; Maddie, Jack, and Vlad, smiling for the photographer. "…have given me a chance to see what a fool I'd been."

Before the accident, Vlad thought he had nothing, but after the loss, he knew the truth. He'd had his life, his power, his fame, his wealth. He had all those possibilities laid out before him, futures that he'd only dreamt of. Now—broken, cold, hollow, living in hiding and cowering in fear, Vlad knew how much he'd lost.

He'd been a fool to think Daniel would ever join him. That Daniel could be swayed to his side. All that effort, everything he had, thrown away in the endeavor to get the halfa on his side. Sacrificing everything to seize the one thing he lacked: Love. Validation.

Family.

But now he was here, barricaded in his hideout with nowhere else to go, trapped with the one person who would surely want him dead. It would be so simple for Daniel, too; without his powers, Vlad held no chance against Phantom, even in his teenage form.

He'd done his best, done what he thought was the right thing, and now, despite his best efforts, today was judgement day.

Danny stayed quiet for a long moment, then stepped forward. Vlad forced himself not to flinch.

"Maybe that's all anybody needs." Danny said, shoulders settling. "…A second chance."

Vlad's head snapped towards Danny in surprise. Could Phantom mean—? No… impossible…

Danny looked up at Vlad, deep in thought.

"You still have those Ghost Gauntlets?"

Vlad's eyes went wide. Could it be?

Then, reality sunk in.

Danny _didn't _know. _Couldn't _know the half of it, not with that reaction.

Vlad's mind whirled, scrambling for purchase. Danny looked up at him with curious, almost _trusting _eyes -

And in them, Vlad saw a spark of a chance. A way to change the future. Danny was here, standing in his hideout, stuck in some anomaly pulled to the future before any of the tragedies had occurred.

If a past Phantom never saw his family die, never split and merged with Plasmius, never went rogue - what would the world look like, then?

Carefully, a plan began forming in his mind.

"I'm sure they're around here somewhere," Vlad said, a smile creeping onto his face. "…Why do you ask?"


	7. The Treble with Going Solo

**Prompter**: Hauntedjoanns (thotvevo)

**Prompt**: Tucker becomes inexplicably busy after school and when he usually joins Danny and Sam on patrols. The two become suspicious and, upon investigating, find Tucker has a secret talent/passion.

**Summary**: Although it takes away from ghost patrols, Danny and Sam are willing to sacrifice time and energy to support Tucker's interests. Even if it's something completely out of left field, like playing the saxophone.

**Wordcount**: 1086 - (For half points - because it's a prompt from someone on my team!)

* * *

**The Treble with Going Solo**

"…You've been ditching to… jam out on the Saxophone?"

Tucker stopped abruptly, the last note going high and squawking from the horn's golden mouth. He jerked back and his eyes flew open to find his friends, Danny and Sam, standing before him with their hands on their hips.

"Your mom let us in," Sam said, answering the unspoken question on Tucker's mind.

Ice flooded through his veins. "I can explain—" he started, lowering his instrument.

Danny threw himself into one of the living room's comfy chairs opposite of Tucker, grinning wide. "Dude, that's _so cool, _why didn't you tell us?"

"You're like a regular Louis Armstrong," Sam agreed, cocking her head to the side and shooting him a wry smile.

Danny blinked at her. "…Who?"

"…And that's why you flunked history." Sam rolled her eyes.

Tucker looked back and forth between them, the saxophone rigid between his fingers. "You're… not mad?" he managed to ask at last, sweating bullets. He figured, with how many times he'd ditched ghost hunting this month, they'd be furious. He'd made excuses left and right - homework, family meeting, dentist appointment—more homework…

They all had periods where balancing patrols and their social life got tricky, and everyone, even Danny, skipped out every so often. Usually it was only a day here and there, a week at most. Tucker knew his friends had started getting suspicious as of late. Probing questions. Side-eyed looks. Frequent texts from the battlefield.

They had every right to confront him, ask for his help. Team Phantom needed their resident techno geek. Tucker's 'vacation' wasn't without consequences; the disaster Technus'd caused last week was proof enough of that.

(The school had yet to re-plaster the gaping hole in the wall by the Computer Lab…)

"Well, I mean, I'm annoyed you didn't tell us," Sam raised an eyebrow. "And felt the need to lie."

"Yeah, Tuck, that week where Sam got really into slam poetry, we pulled all-nighters just to help her out." Danny reminded him, shrugging. "We all have lives. You could've told us."

"That was a week," Tucker argued. "I needed—more than that."

"We noticed." Sam said dryly.

Tucker's shoulders slumped. "Sorry," he apologized. "For lying, and for, well, not being there. I know it's been a rough few weeks without me. But I just… I _needed _to practice. And I didn't feel like I could just, y'know, _ask _for time away. I mean, in the grand scheme of things…" he sighed. "Music's not that important."

Sam and Danny traded looks.

"Yes it is," Danny said at last, surprising him.

Tucker raised his eyebrows. "No it's not," he said. "We're Team Phantom. We stop ghosts from attacking Amity Park, keeping our town and our neighbors in tact. It's a life or death situation."

"Yeah, and if _we_ don't make time for _us _to do some living, then we're failing ourselves," Sam pointed out. "We're failing _each other._"

"And I'm failing you guys by not being there." Tucker countered. "Unless you don't really need me after all?"

Both of them had nothing to say to that; Sam crossed her arms and Danny worked his jaw, scratching absently at a bandage wound around his bicep he'd earned from some battle earlier yesterday. They didn't need to say it - ghost hunting was easier with a trio than with a pair. They'd felt his loss, a fact that both comforted Tucker and stirred up his guilt.

"You wouldn't be doing this without a good reason." Danny said at last. "I know you wouldn't."

Tucker bit his lip. "Yeah." He _did _have a good reason. He fidgeted with the saxophone keys, pressing and releasing along a scale to calm himself down. "…And I guess I also didn't tell you because it was kind of personal, too," he admitted at last.

"No kidding," Sam said, at last moving from where she leaned against the doorframe to cross the room, settling into the other comfy chair by Danny. "I had no idea you even played. Are you good? Know any classics?"

Tucker shrugged. It wasn't that easy to explain. "Do either of you even _like _music?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Humpty Dumpty, NIN - my parents drag me to orchestra concerts at the Pavilion twice a month… not to mention, eight years of lessons." She pantomimed Fur Elise in the air.

Danny looked equally unimpressed. "The guitar in my room's not just for show," he pointed out.

"Sorry." God. Constantly apologizing. Blushing deeper, Tucker nodded. "Music's pretty important to me. Grandpap—my grandfather—he taught me when I was little." He adjusted the mouthpiece and reed just a little. "This is actually his sax, you know?"

"Oh yeah," Danny mused aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. "The anniversary of his death is coming up, isn't it?"

Sam shot a look between the two boys. She had never met Grandpap Foley.

"Yeah," Tucker agreed with a nod, suddenly feeling self conscious. He shifted in his chair. "That's actually why I'm doing this? Every year, he played at the lokal speakeasy downtown - the one that's been open since the Prohibition?"

"Shut up, _The Sly Cat?" _Sam asked, sitting bolt upright. "That place is killer!"

Tucker smiled. "The year Grandpap died, it was right before his yearly scheduled show, so I asked if I could play in his stead. To honor him." Tucker's fingers twiddled up and down the keys, tapping silently to an old nostalgic tune. "They asked if I could come play again this year."

"Awesome!" Danny grinned.

"Yeah, but I'm so rusty—I'm out of practice. We've been so busy—"

"Say no more." Danny threw his hands up, sitting back in the chair. "We'll call if we run into an emergency, but until then this is your first priority."

"…You sure?"

Danny grinned. "If it's important to you, it's _important." _

Validation bloomed in Tucker's chest, filling him with warmth. He looked down, feeling silly. He should've come to them right out - of course they would've understood.

"If I ask," Tucker said, pulling off his beret and running his fingers across his wiry black hair. "…will you guys come to the show?"

"Done and done." Sam whipped out her phone, already making the reservations.

"Now come on Tuck, let's hear it," Danny said, getting comfortable. "Play something for us?"

Tucker smiled, glad to have his friends' support.

Taking a breath, Tucker closed his lips around the mouthpiece, and music filled the air.


	8. Rarepairs

**Prompter**: Differentjasper / Jasper#9489 / differentjasper (fluidity189)

**Prompt**: Fave rairpare

**Summary**: 6 rarepairs: Brain Cookies, Iambic Prose, Masters of Misery/Misery Motivated, Veggie Burger, Pink Astronaut, Black Cat.

1\. Jack/Maddie - They've been working too hard, and Jack decides they need to have some fun.  
2\. Danny/Ghost Writer - College starts in just a few weeks, and Danny's boyfriend is there to ease some of his anxiety.  
3\. Spectra/Vlad - They're so bad for each other, but then, why does it feel so good? (Warning: psychological manipulation)  
4\. Tucker/Sam - Ghost hunting's tough business, and they're only human after all. (Warning: Injury, Relief Situations [hospital collapse, disaster], mortality)  
5\. Paulina/Danny - After being ditched on her Sweet Sixteen, Paulina finds her ex knocking at her door.  
6\. Johnny/Kitty - They'd never felt so alive. (Warning: Implied Character Death.)

**Word Count**: 2374, - Half Points for filling a prompt from my own team.

* * *

**Rarepairs**

Jack/Maddie

"We've been working hard, Mads," Jack said, leaning back from his clipboard of notes to arch his back, cracks sounding all the way up his spine. He smiled. "How bout we take a break?"

Maddie, still peering through her microscope, didn't look up. "We're so close to a breakthrough with the ecto-modulators, Jack, we can't possibly stop now."

"Sure we can!" Jack declared, in full bravado. He reached down, starting to dig through his desk drawer. "Everyone knows taking breaks helps with productivity. And I know just the thing to get you out of the house."

He stuck a flyer under her nose for inspection. Maddie, in the midst of tucking the sample slide back in its box and making a note of her findings, looked up from her work, glancing at the page.

80s THEMED DISCO, the poster read. TONIGHT AT 8pm! BRING YOUR BEST DIGS!

Jack wafted the paper, waggling his eyebrows. "Why don't we blow this popsticle stand and get down where the cool cats hang out? I'd be totally psyched to go with a radical gal like you."

Despite herself, Maddie broke into a grin. "…I suppose one night on the town couldn't hurt…"

Brimming with excitement, Jack offered his hand.

"Might I have this dance?" he asked, a smile in his voice.

"This, and every other," Maddie agreed, shoving her notes away and taking up his offer.

—

* * *

Danny/Ghost Writer

"I'm never going to be ready for college, am I?" Danny asked glumly, draping himself across his boyfriend's shoulders.

Ghost Writer looked up from his manuscript, setting his feather quill back in the inkwell. "You'll do fine," he assured Danny, rubbing circles into Danny's bicep with his thumb. "APTI accepted you, after all, didn't they?"

"More like accepted my parents money," Danny grumbled, giving a loose hug around Ghost Writer's shoulders. "I barely passed High School - the local technical school was all I could manage."

Ghost Writer shrugged. "College is easier," he assured. "More flexibility, independent study. Fewer cliques. And you can skip like half the lectures if you don't mind snagging notes from someone else. Should be easier balancing a double life on campus than it ever was in Casper High."

Danny shifted, unconvinced. "I dunno…."

"Besides," Ghost Writer took up his quill again, starting to scratch out the next sentence. "You're brilliant. You'll do fine."

Danny blinked, and blushed. "You really think so?"

"I do," Ghost Writer said, leaning sideways to give his BF a quick kiss. "Now shoo. I've got a paper to write, and you've got packing to finish."

Danny straightened, stuffing hands in his pockets and heading for the door, humming in content.

—

* * *

Spectra/Vlad

"Check out _that_ piece of work," Spectra snickered, pointing at a passing businessman.

Vlad twisted away from the café table to follow her finger. "A trainwreck, to be sure," he raised an eyebrow, dryly. "Brown shoes with black slacks? Might as well be wearing gym socks while he's at it."

"Not to mention that comb over. Midlife crisises are adorable." She sipped at her expresso, smiling at Vlad.

He straightened, fixing her with a look. "I wouldn't kow," he said, his long, slender fingers toying with the lid of his own drink. "I never had one."

"Oh, _never_, have you?" Spectra mused, the skeptical amusement clear on her face. "Never woke up, mid fourties, decided your life was missing something?" Her grin split, showing the barest hint of fangs. "Never decided to attend - sorry, _host_ \- a college reunion to show off your good fortune, and get revenge on your peers for past greivances?"

Vlad, too dignified to squawk, settled for huffing and glaring hot magenta eyes at her. "Are you saying my vendetta against Jack is—?"

"You're a billionaire. With ghost powers." Spectra said easily, perched on the edge of her chair like it was a precipice. She was playing a dangerous game, after all. "Of course your symptoms are going to look different, no flashy cars, no comb-overs… but - the motive? The same."

He worked his jaw, unsure how much he liked this turn of the conversation. Spectra was a good ally - and a dangerous friend.

"I think of it more as… tidying up unfinished business," he said at last, tapping the table with a restless finger. "A ghost like you should know all about that, surely."

Her face soured for a moment, but then smoothed into a smile, manipulative glint in her eye. "Come now, Vlad. Killing the friend who has everything you ever wanted… Chasing the son you never had… Vying after a college sweetheart when you could get any woman you wanted? Classic midlife crisis."

Taking the offensive, Vlad smiled. "Any woman I wanted?" he repeated, slipping his hand onto Spectra's thigh.

She hitched at that, eyes wide. Then she leaned closer, the glint in her eye growing.

"If you **tried**," she challenged.

They held a stare for a long moment, still as statues in the bustling café. Then, Vlad's eyes wandered to the crowds.

"As one ten to another," he started, purring in her ear.

"I'm an eleven, but continue," Spectra said.

"…As much fun as it is to mock the passerby, perhaps you and I could take this somewhere more… private."

Spectra rolled her shoulders back, a smug smile and a seductive gaze gracing her sharp features.

"Thought you'd never ask."

—

* * *

Tucker/Sam

Sam leaned into Tucker, wrapping her corner of the blanket tightly around herself. The brick was rough at their back, the concrete frigid beneath them; compared to the firestorm earlier, the world seemed cold and uncaring. They only had each other for warmth.

"What a night," Tucker murmured, sounding tired.

She had to agree, watching the firefighters roam over the wreckage that had been the hospital, jabbing the debris with long sticks in search of small pockets of fire. Above them, Valerie and Phantom hovered, faces hard as they worked; Val scanning the collapsed structure for signs of life, and Phantom telekenetically lifting concrete pillars off the bodies, dead or otherwise.

Eyeing a team of paramedics as they jogged past, Sam asked, "…Do you ever wish… we could help more?"

"We help plenty," Tucker replied, stony. They watched as the EMTs loaded another body onto the stretcher, before he quietly added, "…But yes."

They weren't superhuman. Had no specialized hazmat suits, or training. Against individual enemies, they could be of some help. But the hoard of dragons that'd decended on Amity tonight, bearing stolen royal necklaces from Dora's kingdom - their support only stretched so far.

They'd been a seamless team, sniping the enchanted necklaces off the foes from rooftops while Danny and Val provided a distraction, but once the enemy caught on, it was over. If Val hadn't caught Sam as she'd plummeted from the roof—if that dragon claw had scratched Tucker just a little higher—

Sam took a deep breath, arms twining around Tucker's to make sure he was still with her. Tucker flexed his hand, eyeing the bandage wound at his wrist, before placing his hand atop hers. Both hands shook.

"The important thing is, we have each other." He leaned into her. "It's over, and we're still here."

"But what if someday…" Sam swallowed. "What if we're not so lucky?"

Tucker tightened his grip on Sam's hand. "I'll always be here. For you." He said. A pause; a chuckle. "Us humans, we gotta stick together."

She looked up, and he looked at her, eyes locking. For a breath, they held each other there.

He kissed her, soft but firm, and she felt it through and through. When he pulled away, looked at her with a flicker of unease in his eyes, too exhausted to be nervous.

She opened her mouth to ask, but then, at once, shut it. She wasn't going to question this. Not now. Not tonight.

Breathing deep, she held tight to him, to keep him there with her. He seemed to relax under her touch, comforted by each others' presence. Together, they stared detached at the distant chaos around them; the rubble, the whirling sirens, the uniformed men and women flitting from one emergency to the next, wherever their help was needed most.

Tucker's eyes found Danny again, far above them. "He looks tired," he commented, nodding up at their friend, hard face lit by the steady glow as he shifted the ruins back and forth. "…He's going to blame himself."

"He always does," Sam murmured into Tucker's shoulder.

Tucker wrapped his uninjured arm around Sam, pulling her close. "We'll be there for him," he said, more as a declaration than anything else. "It's the least we can do."

"And we'll be here for each other, too." Sam said, quietly. She held up her right hand, palm out, fingers spread. "Team Human?"

Tucker nodded, lacing his fingers with hers.

"Team Human."

—

* * *

Paulina/Danny

A boquet of roses met her when she opened the door, red, vibrant, and blooming, like the blush growing on the cheeks of the one holding them.

"Hey Paulina," said Danny, half hiding behind his gift.

Paulina gasped, hand to her cheek. "Oh goodness, they're _beautiful,_" she murmured, reaching for them.

He handed them over easily, fidgeting once his hands were free. "Listen, I know I'm like the last person you want to see right now…"

"No," she said, the surprise settling back into annoyance. "That would be Dash."

"…Yeah. I heard." Danny looked down at his feet. "Really shitty thing for him to do."

Dash was supposed to take Paulina out on a special date for her Sweet Sixteen, but cancelled last minute to attend a welcome dinner with a football Talent Scout. Which, _understandable, _he was preparing for his future, but he'd known about the dinner for weeks and neglected to tell Paulina until the day of.

Too late to arrange plans with her other friends, not that she wanted their pity. They'd all be attending her mega party on Saturday, and that was _that_. No, Paulina had just wanted her actual birthday to be personal. Special. Instead, she'd spent the night crying her eyes out in her room.

Reminded, Paulina quickly swiped a thumb under her eyes. She had no mascara on to smudge, but it never hurt to be sure. "These are lovely," she said at last. "Thank you."

Danny nodded, rubbing the back of his neck again. Nervous.

"Listen, I was thinking." He shifted weight from one foot to the other. "You wanna go grab a bite to eat? On me, of course."

Paulina looked up, startled.

"As friends," he added quickly. "I know you're dating Dash, I just think you shouldn't have to spend your birthday… you know. Alone."

She stared at him, considering.

"I am _so _not dating Dash anymore," she said at last. "The jerk."

She didn't fail to see how he perked up a bit at that, but he didn't press the issue. Too sweet for that, she mused.

"If you don't feel like going outside, I understand. You can keep the roses either way." He assured.

Paulina buried her face in the flowers, sniffing the delicate scents. Too sweet by far.

Why had she ever broken up with Danny? She remembered, vaguely, dating him a few months back, but couldn't remember the breakup. And of course, that disasterous dance-date when she'd first moved here. _That, _she recalled - she'd been mad he'd ditched her half the dance, but after discovering his Dad had been one of the chaperones, she couldn't say she blamed him in retrospect. She'd do the same in his shoes if her Papa was watching her like a hawk all night.

And, honestly, Paulina didn't want to spend her most momentous birthday holed up in her room. Maybe she should take the chance.

"You know what?" said Paulina, looking into his ice blue eyes. "Why not. Come on in and sit down - I have to go change first. And put on makeup. I'm a wreck."

She led him inside, stopping in the kitchen for a vase. "You're not a wreck," he argued, looking at her with his head cocked sideways, as if trying to spot her alleged flaws. "Besides - what's that song, again? It's my party, I'll cry if I want to?"

Paulina laughed. "She was a wise woman who spoke the truth," she agreed. "But I'd rather not be crying tonight."

"That's why I'm here," Danny shrugged, leaning against the kitchen table.

Paulina deposited the flowers in a vase, on display for all to see.

"Thank you," she said, turning to him. "Make yourself comfortable, I won't be long."

"Don't mention it. Take as much time as you—" Danny cut off abruptly as Paulina leaned in to peck his cheek with a kiss. "—Need…"

"Be right back," she promised, skipping away and up the staircase.

"…Ok," she heard him mumble, stunned. She smirked. She thought maybe he'd been here to pick her up on the rebound, but no, he'd really just been here to support her.

Maybe tonight would be a disaster. Maybe he'd up and disappear like he always did - like all her friends did. But for now…

Paulina swung open her closet doors, eyeing the little black dress and pink Channel jacket she'd bought just for tonight's occasion.

For now, she'd step out that door with Danny on her arm, and see where the night takes her.

—

* * *

Johnny/Kitty

The motorcycle whipped down the open road, the shadows racing behind them.

Johnny gripped the handlebars, pushing his bike faster. Kitty wrapped her arms around his midsection, hair whipping behind her.

Adrenaline raced in their veins, making them feel alive. Like all their troubles were behind them. She was here, with him, and he with her; nothing could ever come between them.

Kitty whooped, laughing in the night air. "I love you, Johnny," she yelled, above the whipping wind and the engine roar.

He laughed with her, head turned to glance behind him; he didn't see the sharp turn at the base of the cliff - how his bad luck was about to catch up to them, once and for all.

"Love you too babe," he said, heart beating hard in his chest. "Forever and always."


	9. Hanahaki (Pt 1)

**Prompter**: tonis-writings / Sailor_toni / Sailor_toni

**Prompt**: Reverse Trio AU, Sam is slowly being killed by her plant/nature core. But Undergrowth seems unwilling to teach her how to master it. Will she manage to convince him otherwise or will not only her life end but all of Amity Park!?

**Summary**: Hanahaki - a disease born from the feelings of onesided love, the pain that takes root in the lungs and chokes the infirm until they are loved in return, or abandon the feelings... left alone, the disease proves fatal. When Sam's newfound plant powers have her coughing up roses, Undergrowth's insight leads her to a difficult question; will she confess her love to Danny - or let the feelings wither and die? (Amethyst Ocean. Reverse Trio AU.)

**Word Count**: 754.

**Warnings**: Blood, choking, body horror-ish.

Note* there was meant to be more than this buuuut apparently I've run out of time.

* * *

**Hanahaki**

"…Does it hurt?" Danny asked, peering through his horn rimmed glasses at Sam once she managed to stop coughing.

Sam hacked once more, a harsh and scraping cough, then puckered and spat two more red petals onto her lunch tray. She scowled at the fluttering petals, bright like drops of blood against the plastic.

"No. It doesn't." Sam lied, facing him. She pushed her lunch tray away, appetite withered. She'd been hacking up flowers all day, rose thorns scratching up her insides, and fried tofu burgers weren't easy on the throat.

"Pretty," Tucker said dryly, reaching out to poke the petals fluttering in the afternoon wind and recoiling once he discovered them still wet with saliva. He shook out his hand, flicking his fingers to rid them of the dampness. "Can you control it? You should try for something a little more hardcore than roses. Like, something black."

"There's no such thing as black flowers, Tuck." Danny said. Then, his eyes flickered to Sam for confirmation. "…Right?"

Tucker waved his PDA in their faces, the spring sunlight glaring off the screen. "Not true. Check out this wicked looking Bat Orchid."

Eyeing the flower's winglike petals and whisker-long stamens, Sam's nose crinkled in disgust. Just picturing one of those in her mouth made her feel nauseous. "Pretty sure those are genetically modified, so yeah. Zero percent chance of _that_."

The goth drew back, shrugging. "Suit yourself," he said.

"That _really _can't be comfortable, though," Danny insisted, digging into his pocket to snap a picture of the petals with his nebula-cased iPhone. "I'll look this up later in my encyclopedia. Do you think maybe it's some kind of ghost cold? With your plant powers?" Danny fixed his ice-blue eyes on her, concerned. "What if it gets worse?"

Sam met his starry blue eyes, insides melting into honey-sweet goo. He was always so thoughtful…

Her breath hitched, a barb of pain branching in her lungs, and Sam coughed again, this time spewing a whole flurry of petals from her mouth. The boys leaned back, but their faces pinched, concerned.

"That's a good point…" Tucker murmured, already clicking something on his device.

"Really guys," Sam said, as she swiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, wincing. The barb in her lung branched upward towards her heart. She pressed down a gasp - couldn't have them thinking that whatever-this-was could be _weakening _her. "I'm _fine._"

"…You're sure?" Danny held her gaze. "And you'd tell us right away if you weren't?"

Sam swallowed painfully, pressing down another bout of coughs.

"Absolutely," she lied.

The trio stared at each other in tense silence for a moment, unblinking. Then, the tension broke as the bell rang, echoing through the school yards and summoning them back inside. All three heads jerking up. Danny sighed.

"I better get to Astronomy, Lancer's helping me mentor the new kid. Gregor, or something." He said glumly, standing. Sam blinked. Danny loved astronomy - even embraced his christened role of student teacher wholeheartedly. His bad mood, she suspected, was due to something else. Maybe he hadn't bought her lie completely after all. Danny paused, casting a glance back at Sam. "If you _need us—_"

"I'll call," Sam promised.

Gathering up their bags, Danny and Tucker left. Sam made a show of grabbing hers, too, moving slow and waving them goodbye.

When they were out of sight, Sam ducked behind the picnic table, a choking noise gurgling from her throat. She couldn't hold it in any longer. Coughs burst from her throat, heavy and raw. Hunching, cupping her hand to her mouth, Sam coughed and choked on petals until a flower, in full bloom, spilled from her tongue.

A red rose. Soft, pliant petals, stiff stem and sharp thorns.

Speckled, invisibly, with blood.

Scowling, Sam dropped the flower on the table and then swept the whole pile of petals onto the grass like compost. Whatever this was, she mused, glaring at the bloom she shuffled under the table, she couldn't just ignore it.

As much as she hated to admit it… she needed help.

And much to her chagrin, there was only one ghost she knew who had any sort of control over plants, flowers, or nature. And that weed wouldn't be keen on helping her with _anything_.

Sam puckered and spat onto the grass to get the taste of greenery and pollen out of her mouth.

Well, then. She gathered her bag and tray, abandoning her spot. _She'd just have to convince him. _


	10. Out of Body Experience

**Next**: Out of Body Experience

**Prompter**: bibliophileap / bibliophilea

**Prompt**: He's flying… or is he?

**Summary**: Dash is having the _weirdest _dream. …It _is _a dream, right?

**Word Count**: 3854

**Warnings**: Character Near Death Experience, blood, injury.

* * *

**Out of Body Experience**

**—**

He's flying.

…Or is he?

Amity Park stretches out below him, rolling on forever. Looking down, Dash can see the Nasty Burger, the Mall, the School—even North Mercy Hospital, touching the city outskirts behind him. From this angle, it looks almost like a painting hung in a museum, slowly coming into focus.

But, like a painting, nothing is really _moving_, so he doesn't know if it really counts as flying. Hovering, maybe. Floating. Standing on some invsible ceiling, looking down at the world.

No, floating sounds right. Floating matches the odd, drifting feeling in his stomach, and the unfocused swirl in his head. Rubbing his face, Dash shakes it off, and stares down at the town below.

He tilts to one side, then the other, to test his stability. Below, the world tilts with him, back and forth. Control comes to him readily, like he was born in the air, made to drift among the clouds. Twisting his shoulders turns him left and right. Arching his back pulls him upward. All of it feels natural.

As soon as he's got a handle on the basics, Dash leans forward. His stability wobbles a bit, but holds, and he sets off out into the sky.

His speed starts slow, careful, then picks up gradually, like a roller coaster rattling down the first hill. Adrenaline kicks in as wind whips at his face, billowing through his hair.

Dash lets out a whoop, peeling to the right and climbing harder, pushing his speed. Alright! _Now _he's flying!

A cloud engulfs him like mist and spits him out the other side. He spins mid-air, throwing water droplets in all directions, reaching the next cloud, he skims across the top of the fog, trailing his hand in the white. This is such an _amazing _dream.

It's beautiful up here. Fresh, crisp, cold… he wants to keep flying forever.

He crosses its expanse in seconds, and as the cloud's silver lining falls away, Dash finds himself staring back down at the ground again. Tall buildings and flat, winding streets roll under him as he flies.

Though, now that he's looking down, something seems — off.

But what?

Curious, he angles downward, letting gravity take hold.

He levels out about fifty, sixty yards up, skimming the top of a strip mall and threading through the alleyway behind it. Everything looks so surreal from the top down, as if he's looking at it sideways.

The bank next door, usually bustling, seems deserted. Dash rushes it, crossing the gap faster than a blink of an eye. He arches up the side of the bank, the red brick blurring past, close enough to touch.

He breaks over the top like an ocean wave, and lands on the corner, running along the building's edge. Wind whips in his face, throwing his hair back; concrete scrapes underfot. He charges across the rooftop like a linebacker trying to break past the challenger's defense. In seconds, he reaches the roof's opposite edge, and launches back into flight, laughing.

His laughter echoes, hollow, off the streets.

It's so empty here. Weird.

Frowning, Dash spins to survey the field. At last, he's able to put his finger on why the town feels so eerie—well, eerier than normal.

Amity Park is deserted.

No pedestrians milling on the sidewlak. Cars abandoned mid-drive, on the street. Traffic lights change lazily from red to green, but past that, the only movement is the fluttering of flags and grass in the wind.

Where _is _everybody?

A chill runs up his spine, and suddenly, Dash doesn't want to be here. This place is giving him the creeps. Turning his face skyward, he prepares to launch back into the atmosphere, to fly among the beautiful safety of the clouds, when something—a flicker at the edge his vision—catches his eye.

The bank's large windows shine like a polished mirror. Dash turns to look, and blinks at the figure that's staring back, hovering in the reflection.

_Is that—__**me**__?_

The reflection warbles and solidifies, blinking through the window back at him, startled. It's his face, alright. His silhouette. He's sure of it. But… who ripped his letterman jacket? Frowning, he lifts an arm, looking down. The faux leather ends in tatters, as if ripped to shreds by claws.

There's a stain, too, by the zipper. Purple and sticky, blooming by his stomach.

The color's off, too, though in some weird dream-logic, Dash can't put a finger on _why. _The jacket is Jade and Jet Black, though he's certain… _sorta _certain… that it's supposed to be red and white. And his skin, an odd, dark blue color… and matching navy hair…. That's _weird, _right? Only ghosts and smurfs and aliens are supposed to be blue.

Weirdest of all - the color of his eyes. An eerie orange blinks back at him, befuddled.

Dash doesn't like it, not one bit.

Something feels wrong.

In the distance, a keening cry echoes through the streets of Amity Park, then falls silent.

Dash stares off into the distance, where the sound originated. It seemed like it came from the—

From the school.

Unsettled, Dash starts after it, peeling away from the buildingside to arch over the street, following the sound.

He's seeing more signs, now. Something must've gotten under his skin, because he's noticing little things off, everywhere. A cracked windo here. A car door open, ajar, there. A couple of trash cans knocked over, spilling into the street.

Beyond it, there's a large tree branch, snapped off its tree and tumbled into the sidewalk, blocking the way. Its wilting green leaves flutter in the wind. Further down, he spies a new pothole in the street, one that hadn't been there before.

—_Or has it? It's—so hard to remember, suddenly— _

He turns the corner, following the signs like breadcrumbs. Bricks, knocked loose from their foundation. Cars with dents, smashed tail lgihts. Black marks— scorch marks? Dotting their way up the side of the grocery store. At the top, on the roof's ledge, he sees deep gouges set in the stone. Sets of three, like claw marks from a mighty beast.

Suddenly, he goes still, understanding.

A ghost attack.

Has to be.

That's why the street is deserted, why the place looks like a tornado hit. A ghost, or several, swept through here, leaving damage in its wake, and all the residents fled for shelter inside.

"Man…" Dash eyes the claw marks on the rooftop, floored. "What kind of ghost did _that?_"

Despite everything, Amity Park seems calm, like the storm has just passed through. As Dash spins to survey the street, he spots one person sticking their head out of the vinyl shop - salt and pepper hair, mustache, glancing back and forth for threats as he eases his way out of the building.

Two more across the street - their faces flicker in the windows, peering, before vanishing inside again.

Dash breathes a sigh of relief, feeling a knot loosen in his chest at the sign of normality. As a third person, a tall, dark man in a polo shirt eases out of an apartment building, a phone pressed to his ear as he peers at the sky - "_Yeah, Marge, I think it flew off—towards downtown, I think?—" _\- Dash steps forward and clears his throat.

"Hey man, what happened here?" he asks, reaching out to tap the man's shoulder. "Must've been _some _fight—"

The man doesn't respond. Instead, Dash's hand goes straight through, phasing through the guy's polo like it was no more substantial than the misty clouds above them.

Gasping, Dash yanks his hand back. It stings, tingles, almost. All the way up his arm. What an eerie feeling.

What a weird _dream. _

Polo guy keeps walking, talking on his phone, like Dash isn't even there. "Hey," Dash calls, angry or scared, too freaked to tell the difference right now. "Don't walk away, I was talking to you! Hello?"

The man doesn't see him. "No I think you better stay inside, dear," he tells whoever's on the other end of the phone, venturing farther out onto the street. He's peering north. "Phantom will take care of it."

Dash's heart goes still.

_Danny Phantom? _

On impulse, Dash tears his eyes away from the guy - and all the other people starting to creep out of their homes - turning North instead, to follow the guy's gaze.

A pillar of black smoke rises in the distance. Deep in his heart, he knows where it's coming from.

Curiosity—or something stronger than curiosity—draws him onward, following the curves of the street. The wreckage gets worse the farther he travels, the closer he zeroes in on that smoke.

A lightpole lays sideways across the intersection, traffic lights blinking wildly - red, green, yellow, green.

A crater, larger than the others, bores into the pavement. The concrete cracks in a spiderweb pattern, crumbling away into the sewers below.

Cars lay, flipped on their sides, wheels spinning wildly in the air, headlights flickering to black.

Ash and smoke tickle his nose, burnt wood like a bonfire. A thin haze settles low over the street. More people begin to venture from their homes into the calm, but ominous air, reaching for each other or talking with their ears pressed to cellphones. They scan the skies warily, watching for whatever beasts swept through here. None spare a look at him.

Determined, he cuts across to King Street, following the path to the smoke. He flits through the neighborhood, zeroing in on his target - certain, now, what he'll see when he turns the corner.

Sure enough, the school comes into view, and he sees the nightmare laid out before him.

Casper High is in shambles.

The building looms tall, all its windows blown out, the rooftop caving in. A chunk's been taken out of the upper right corner of A-Wing, smoke rising from the crater. The missing slab of wall is crumbling at the base of the school, gouged with claw marks and slicked green with ectoplasm.

Dash's stomach sinks. This place, it's—like a second home, filled with good friends and memories, and seeing it in ruins unsettles him to the core.

The truant officer, an old weathered man, ducks out the double doors. He's got a radio in one hand, and an ectogun in the other. Holding the radio to his face, he thunders down the wide steps, flagging someone down.

A cop car, sirens whirling, speeds across King Street. The Policewoman screeches to a stop and throws open the car door to meet the man, speaking into her own radio for dispatch. The whole street is thrown into stark contrast from the police car lights, flashing red and blue.

Backup will be here soon. Ghost hunters, cop cars, firefighters, the whole shebang. This attack is too big to ignore; it'll be on the evening news. School might close - maybe even for good. Dash shakes his head, dazed and drifting; it all feels so surreal.

—_this is such a WEIRD dream, _he thinks, detached.

And then a voice in his head says: _What if it __**isn't **__a dream? _

A shudder resonates down his back. He's sick of this nightmare, he _really _is, but somehow, despite the flying and the phasing and the fight's aftermath, it all feels unsettlingly _real. _

He has to get to the bottom of it.

Compelled onward, Dash rises in the air. The wreckage has carried past the school's courtyard, over the roof and beyond, to the football field and track circuit in the back. The place, which Dash used to know like the back of his hand, now looks tumbled in chaos.

The far bleachers are buckled inward, as if some massive thing landed on top of them, crushing them underfoot. Green fire burns sedately, at the corner of the yard by the equipment shed, almost self-extinguished. Craters litter the field, one goalpost askew like the leaning tower of piza—

In the distance - clustered at the 20 yard line, Dash sees people clustered in a tight knit group, one lying flat on the ground.

Something in his heart goes still.

In an instant, he closes the gap, racing to see a scene all too familiar, if only he could remember.

Four people. Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, knees bent and stances wide, ready to run for help the moment they need to. Between them, Danny Fenton, on his knees, giving steady CPR. And the last figure, the unconscious teen lying flat on the ground, that's—

That's—

Dash swallows, hard, his breath stopped in his throat.

_That's him. _

Dash Baxter's body lies flat on the ground, blond hair slicked back, letterman jacket in tatters, an injury blooming at his stomach.

That is Dash Baxter, star Quarterback of Casper High, and he looks like he is _dying. _

Danny's lips move, snapping orders at his friends; "I hear sirens. Tucker! Paramedics! Go!" Tucker Foley nods and runs off, soup thermos in hand, beelining towards the flashing red-blue lights in the distance.

Danny jerks his chin at Sam, then at the bleachers a moment later, where - Dash twists to look - more teenagers—sophomores, by the looks of it—are emerging from their hideout clustered under the meager shelter of the benches, shaken but concerned.

The sophomores start to move towards Danny and Dash, and Sam steps in to head them off. She starts arguing with them, making expansive, commanding gestures at the stragglers and then points at the crumbling school building. They, in turn, argue hotly with her, but the fear is more than a spark in their eyes, gazes flickering to the bloody quarterback on the ground and the damage littering the field. Eventually, Sam urges them towards safety, leading them away.

Dash barely registers all of this, unable to tear his eyes away from the prone body on the grass that looks so much like _him_.

Through all this, Danny does not stop his rhythmic compressions, giving steady CPR. He pauses only to give two breaths at intervals and to listen, and watch, for breathing. If it's helping, it's not obvious; the body is rapidly turning blue.

_Fenton… _

It's shocking that Danny would even bother. Fenton's not a good friend - not even a good enemy - and Dash would, under pressure, reluctantly admit he's been unfair to Danny through their entire highschool experience.

An antagonist at best, an enemy at worst, they wage war between classes over a grudge long forgotten. Given how many times Danny's been shoved into lockers, pinned to the wall, tripped in the hallways — giving lifesaving support to his tormentor ought to be the last thing on his mind.

Dash just stands, and stares. Seeing Danny's stony, determined face, as he doles out one rhythmic push after another… it makes his insides twist.

They're interrupted, suddenly, by Tucker's return. The techno-geek runs up to the pair on the ground, pointing at them, shouting "Here, he's _here—_" to someone in the distance.

Confused, Dash turns to see who Tucker's talking to, and finds a pair of EMTs rushing towards the scene, wearing dark field suits and carrying large cases laden with equipment.

They don't see him. Like everyone else in this dream, their eyes bore straight through him; Dash seems to be utterly invisible.

And they're coming right at him.

Startled, Dash goes to dodge out of the way, but the first EMT rushes up to—an then _through_—him. The rippling sensation warbles through his body then fades, ebbing, as he reforms.

Dash touches his chest, heaving deep, unsteady breaths. That felt _terrible. _

The second EMT clips his shoulder, moving through it like he passed through the clouds minutes ago. His arms swirls like mist, then reforms in her wake.

He flexes his still-tingling hand, shaking.

God. This dream feels so _real. _

A flurry of motion catches Dash's eye; he discards the thought, turning to face the scene again. Danny's telling the paramedics something, still pumping at the quarterback's chest—7, 8, 9, 10 compressions—and then, he breaks, leaning back from the body. The transition is seamless, the Paramedic moving in as Danny eases out, resuming the steady pumps.

Tucker hauls Danny to his feet. Fenton seems exhausted.

The paramedics take over. One does compressions while the second presses her fingers down key points on Dash's body, checking for broken bones. Once done, she peels the shirt back to reveal his bleeding abdomen. Danny and Tucker move back to give them space. Tucker doubles over, out of breath from running. Danny's arms hang uselessly at his side, hands stained blood red, as he watches the scene play out.

"You think he's gonna make it?" Tucker asks, between breaths.

Danny, staring at the scene, shakes his head.

Two more paramedics arrive, wheeling a stretcher, slowed by the grass and the many, many craters riddling the field. Tucker and Danny split to the sides to make way, watching the newcomers wheel it over to the unconscious body to lower it to the ground.

Tucker flashes a hand sign at Danny, who nods back. With great effort, straining, Tucker takes off towards the school, probably going in after Sam. Only Danny lingers behind, watching the paramedics, looking lost.

Dash lingers behind him, watching the scene unfold. Through it all, he can only marvel at what he's witnessing. Judging by the urgency of the medical team, his body is in critical condition. The paramedic is still giving chest compressions, pressing on, but the kid's skin just keeps getting bluer.

He's really going to sit here and watch himself die, huh?

The day started with a killer awesome flight through the clouds and now it's ending with a futile struggle, watching his body die while he hovers just beyond the crowds.

With each second that passes, he feels hazier, feels more exhausted and lost.

Dash, dumbstruck, shakes his head.

"What a weird dream," he murmurs aloud.

Danny, standing in front of him, goes stiff. Fenton twists and pivots to look behind himself, bewildered.

And for a second, Dash swears Fenton is looking straight at _him. _

Stunned, Danny blinks once. Twice. Dash blinks back.

Danny tears his gaze away, glancing at Dash's body, then back at Dash, then at the body—

"Oh my god." Fenton mumbles, voice barely a whisper.

And then, suddenly, Danny snaps back to him, arm shooting out to grab a handful of the tattered leatherman jacket in his fist. Dash doesn't even think to dodge, expecting Fenton to pass right through him like all the others, but he _doesn't. _

Dash _feels _it—an energy thrumming straight from Danny into his own body, an insurmountable power hiding just beneath Danny's skin.

Danny meets his eyes - and the colors are off again, just like in the bank windows - Danny's skin seems to be glowing, his hair gives a flash-impression of _white, _his eyes thrumming with an electric, otherworldly _green— _

"Sorry Dash," Danny says, his voice like _thunder _in Dash's ears, resonating with a faint afterecho. Dash flinches back.

And then Danny tugs at the Letterman jacket in his fist, pulling Dash forward, yanking the jock straight off his feet.

"Coming through!" Danny announces to the paramedics, who part for him only out of surprise. Danny shoves his way through the crowd, towing Dash's dream form behind.

Drawing up to the body's side, with one last yank, Danny throws Dash down onto—_into?—_his own unconscious body.

Panicked, Dash twists, clinging to Fenton's toothpick arms yet somehow unable to break through. Staring up, he sees is the sky arching above him, a hazy blue dotted with clouds, a freedom that now seems so far out of reach.

The moment he collides with his own body, it's like being plunged into icewater and darkness.

The last thing Dash sees are a pair of glowing, green eyes.

The world cuts to black.

—

Dash Baxter wakes with a gasp, his body on fire and the world in chaos around him.

He coughs, the motion wracking his entire body. Something's squeezed the life out of his lungs. He coughs again, and again, gasping, trying to suck in air.

Strong hands guide his shoulders back down, holding him steady, as voices shout every which way.

"He's up! He's conscious, Trina, get the—"

"—Ok, Dash, we need you to remain calm—"

"—eathing and heartbeat restarted… what the hell did you _do, _kid?—"

When he manages to stop coughing, briefly, Dash clenches his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain and the voices and the blinding light shining above him.

"—eartbeat at 108 bpm, let's get—"

"—still bleeding out of the left cartero—"

"—and light ectoplasm burns on the—"

Pain sears through his whole body as multiple hands find themselves under his back, and he's lifted, shifted, and placed onto the stretcher. When the stabbing pain recedes, Dash finds himself staring up at blue skies, clouds drifting lazily above him.

A face sticks itself into Dash's field of vision. "Dash, are you with us?" she asks, drawing him out of his reverie.

Dash feels the world drifting around him, though pain keeps him grounded and hazy by turns. Dash grips his hands into fists. "I was flying," he murmurs, trying to make sense of it all. He _was _flying—or was he?

The paramedic stills for the barest moments, then nods. "You were in a ghost attack," she tells him, as the stretcher supporting him lifts. "We're taking you to North Mercy."

He can feel the movement, can see her running beside him, but bloodloss has him disoriented.

"I dreamt I was flying," he says again. He licks lips that are cracked, dry. "There was fire."

"Don't worry, the firefighters took care of that," the paramedic says, apparently pleased to keep him awake and talking.

The corner of the ambulance edges into his view, and he hears the doors open. Dash feels relief, like he's almost home, but he has to tell someone - anyone - what he saw. "I thought I saw—it was… Danny—"

"Yeah, Danny Phantom captured that behemoth of a ghost," she agrees. "His quick response probably saved your life."

"No—" he starts. That isn't right.

The medical officers holding his gurney motion to her, and she steps back to let them pass. With quick efficiency, they load his stretcher onto the abulance, and before the door slams, someone climbs in behind him. A new face.

No, he was going to tell her, though it's too late now. I meant I saw Danny _Fenton—_the person who'd been giving him CPR, the one who'd saved his life—it wasn't Danny _Phantom. _

But then…

Danny's afterimage floats across Dash's mind. The inverted white hair, the flash of green eyes, sear into the blackness behind Dash's closed eyelids, and he goes rigid.

_That wasn't_… Dash licks his lips. _It wasn't Danny Phantom_, he tells himself.

But another, small voice, echoes in his head:

_Or was he? _

—


	11. I Dare You

**Prompter:** Thethirteenthcrow / thethirteenthcrow / thethirteenthcrow (zhalia)

**Prompt: **Danny, Tucker and Sam are home alone at Tucker's, having a sleepover. It's the devil's' hour (3am) and they decide it would be a gReAt idea to play truth or dare! (you can literally go anywhere with this :D)

* * *

**I Dare You... **

"Ok Sam, Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Is that your real hair color?"

Sam glared at Danny, who was grinning wildly at her, unrepentant. She folded her arms across her chest, eyebrow raised.

"…No," she admitted at last. She reached for the tequilla bottle they'd filched from Mr Foley's stash, taking a sip and swallowing it with a grimace. "My natural color's this godawful platinum blonde like my dad."

"You're _kidding._" Tucker said, eyebrows dancing in amusement.

"Nope." Sam plunked the bottle between the three of them for someone else to use. "Makes for easy dying though. No bleach necessary."

Tucker howled in laughter, as Danny took the bottle. "Your turn," Sam nudged Tucker with her toe.

"Cool. Danny—Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

Tucker grinned. "I dare you to go to my basement and stick your face into one of the cobwebs there." He challenged. "…And no intangibility!"

"_What? _Ew!" Danny recoiled, nose wrinkling.

Tucker showed no mercy. "Is that a nooooo?" he asked, eyeing the bottle hard. They all knew the rules; pass, and you have to chug three mouthfuls without stopping.

Danny glanced at the tequila, debating. "Ugh," he said at last, standing. "_Fine._"

"And record it! I want proof!" Tucker called as Danny eased open the door, checked the darkened hallway for parents, then trotted down the staircase.

Sam stretched out on the floor, her bare toes wiggling. "No ghosts tonight," she mused, violet eyes straying to the window.

"Don't _jinx _it," Tucker cursed, making a shooing motion at her.

"Just _saying,_" she pointed out, yawning. "Playing truth or dare at the devil's hour is, y'know, not our wisest decision."

"At least we're not playing the Midnight Game," Tucker said.

"That… would've started at midnight, Tuck. You're more tired than you think you are."

He shrugged, unrepentant.

Danny phased up from the floor, hacking and recoiling all the way. "That was _disgusting,_" he grimaced at Tucker, tossing him the phone for proof as he dragged his other hand down his face. "I felt my spirit leave my body. I _literally _died. Ew."

Tucker replayed the clip, laughing. "I can't believe you _did _it," he said, as Danny took his customary sip from the bottle and passed it on. "Wait—my turn again?" Tucker asked.

"Three questions, and switch the order." Sam agreed. "Gets boring otherwise. I think it's your turn to ask… me?" Danny nodded.

Tucker sat bolt upright, passing Danny's phone back. He seemed to be trying to keep something inside.

"Works for me," he said, forcing nonchalance. "…Truth or dare?"

Sam eyed him, suspicious. "…Dare?" she said, uncertain what he was up to.

Gleeful, Tucker burst out, "Alright, I _dare _you to tell Danny how you feel!"

Silence.

Sam's eye twitched, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to have a conniption. But then her eyes sparkled, and her features smoothed.

"Alright," she said, eyebrows raised.

Tucker's jaw dropped, stopping mid-motion from handing her the tequilla bottle. "_Really?_" he said - almost shouted - in his excitement. Sam nodded, and he quickly lowered the bottle, patting his pockets down for his phone. "Hold on, I want to record this…"

Danny's brows furrowed, glancing between the stoic Sam and the all-but-vibrating Tucker.

"How she _feels? _Did I miss something?" Danny asked, confused.

Tucker pulled his PDA into position, glowing with pride. "And we are _Live. _This is a historic game of Truth or Dare, we are about to watch Sam utter her most closely guarded secret. Alright, Sam," Tucker pointed at her like he was giving a stage cue. "Tell Danny how you feel."

Sam faced Danny, shoulders pushe dback. She tilted her head, considering.

"A little warm," she said at last. "Kinda sore. Leg cramp—and a bit tired, though that's not a big surprise. It's 3am, after all.

Silence.

Danny stared at Sam, then at Tucker.

"I don't get it," Danny admitted at last.

Tucker lowered his PDA with an exasperated sigh. "SA-A-AM," he protested. "You know full well what I _meant!_"

"What did you mean?" Danny asked, growing suspicious now.

Both ignored him, Sam shrugging and shooting a grin at Tucker, smug. "Should've been more specific," she lilted.

"I don' believe this," Tucker grumbled. "When it's my turn again—"

"You'll be interrogating Danny. Reverse order, remember?" Sam sing-songed. "And besides. No repeat questions or dares."

Groaning loudly, Tucker slumped back to lya flat on the floor, defeated.

Danny watched the whole exchange, stumped. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Sam beat him to the punch. "My turn. Danny - truth or dare?"

"Dare," he said, automatically.

"Ooh, shocker." Tucker deadpanned from his position, arms crossed. "What's next on the agenda, Sam? Have him haunt Paulina? Dance on the roof? Release the tigers from the zoo?"

"Last one's tempting," she admitted. "But all of them would end in disaster."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "You never pick anything interesting," he accused.

Sam crossed her arms, radiating annoyance. "And what do _you _consider interesting?"

"I don't know. Something humiliating. Gross. _Risky._"

"You sure you don't mean _risqué?_" she shot back.

"Sam dif."

Sam glared hard at Tucker, hard enough that he might spontaneously combust under the pressure, but he just rolled over on his side, head propped up on his hand. "Face it, Sam," he said. "You just suck at this game."

Fuming, Sam turned back to Danny, who by now was was sweating bullets. "Don't egg her _on, _Tuck," Danny begged, struggling to meet Sam's eyes.

Sam stared back, defiant.

"I dare yo…" she began, jutting her chin out stubbornly. "…To kiss me."

Danny froze in place, eyes going wide, while Tucker sat up, sputering. "You _WHAT?_" he demanded, not even bothering to be quiet anymore.

Sam stared at him with hard defiant eyes, a blush radiating across her chees. "Well, it _seemed _like the type of dare you'd find _interesting,_" she shot back. "Am I entertaining enough for you now?"

"Are you serious?" Danny asked, drawing them back to the present. He fidgeted, looking nervous, self conscious, aware.

Sam looked at him, then, unyeilding, said "yes."

Tucker, slack-jawed, brought his phone back up into filming position.

Danny glanced nervously at the bottle, debating, seemed to discard the thought. Taking a deep breath, mustering up the courage, Danny leaned in close, one hand straying up to brush her hair away from her face. Sam held very still, giving not a single inch away.

"Uh, any particular place?" he ased, eyes falling on her purple smile.

Tucker fist pumped. "Lips!" he demanded.

Sam shrugged. "S-sure. Lips."

Taking another breath, Danny leaned in, slow and deliberate, placing a gentle kiss on her violet lips. He held there for a long moment, savoring the sensation, and Sam's eyes fluttered closed.

At last, both leaned back, blushing deeply.

"You good?" He murmured to her.

"…Yeah," she said, smiling.

"You _did _it," Tucker crowed, fighting to hold the camera steady. "I can't believe y—"

"Your turn," Danny took a sip and tossed the bottle to Tucker, breaking the mood. "S-so, uh, Truth or Dare?"

Tucker shook his head, still laughing full-on. He tucked his phone away. "Truth," he said.

Danny's eyes flickered between Tucker and Sam, before at last he fixed his eyes on Tucker.

"What did you _mean _by the question you asked Sam earlier? How she _felt?" _Danny pressed, suspcious now.

Tucker's eyes went wide. He glanced at Danny, then Sam, who was giving him the most stern, murderous glare she could manage.

At once, Tucker laughed.

"Dude, if you don't know by now," he said, snatching up the bottle, "Then you just don't know."

Putting the mouth to his lips, Tucker pulled bottoms up, and took three long swigs.


End file.
